Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi or The Little Prince.

Happy birthday, Carmen!


Her eyelids drift shut slowly, but spring open quickly; it's a pattern, an intricate pattern that only she can make so lovely. She's tired but she continues to talk and use her hands to express herself and I know that I should take her home, but I don't want to leave her just yet. I don't want to leave the lights that are really just her. I just want to hear her voice for a little longer. I just want to make sure that tonight is still existent.

I'm not exactly sure what she's talking about, and I don't think that she knows either. Her voice is soft and full of broken thoughts being found and Metamorphosing into paragraphs. I don't think that she knows. I don't think that she knows that she'll always bring me back five goddamn steps. I don't think she know that a look from her will completely turn me around and shove my face into the dirt. That's just how we are; she destroys me. But this time, I won't destroy myself. I'll be okay.

We sit in my father's car and she's talking about sunsets. She's falling asleep; I hear it in the way she moves and the way her voice swirls around my head and acts as a net. She's capturing me with her gentle tone and I want to lean in and grab everything I can from this girl. This girl, that to some is insignificant, has become my life in a year. This girl, this wise, charming, infuriating girl has a voice that has become my theme song.

"The little prince watched the sunset forty-four times in one day. I want to watch the sunset forty-five times in one day." Her voice is wavering and I figure that I should take her home. But I can't stop staring at her stilling figure. I can't stop noticing her loose breathing and the small movements of her fingers patting down her dress.

And with a few moments of silence, I know that she's dead to the world. She's in her own head and I wonder if I'm in her mind too, just like how she's always in my head. And very quietly I tell her that someday she will see the sunset forty-five times, and hell, she'll see the sunset forty-six times. I don't know how and ideas are shooting in my head and thoughts of watching the sun go down with her is making my heart quicken and making the air warmer with my chaos.

It's just that when I said there wouldn't always be twinkly lights with us, I didn't realize how wrong I was until I was completely alone with her without the actual twinkly lights. Because Clare Edwards is the twinkly lights. She is the lights frozen in the frosty air; innocent and untouchable, but so easy to gaze at and fall in love with. She's the light when everything else if dull and deceased.

And if she wants to watch the sunset forty-five times, I'll give it to her. Whatever she wants I'll give it to her, and yeah, I might get hurt in the end and I might be going back five steps without realizing it, but I'm making my way through the universe with her and I can't see myself doing that with anyone else. She takes me high with the other lights and electricity and whenever she's around I'm walking on broken glass. But I don't care. I don't mind.

Because with one look from her, BAM- I see nothing but the lights that spin my whole life around.


I haven't written like this in quite a while. Review, please?